With her usual impetuosity, Freda's hand was on the bell. Gladys exclaimed quickly,—
'Do not ring, Miss Gwynne. I can tell you all I know. Nothing has happened to injure Colonel Vaughan, bodily at least'
'What do you mean, girl?' said Miss Gwynne, turning round again and facing Gladys.
Gladys stood before her mistress with clasped hands, heaving breast, quivering lips, and downcast eyes. She tried to summon courage and words, but neither would come. How could she crush the love and hopes of one so dear to her? her benefactress, her all? But it must be done.
With one great effort she began, and in as few words as possible, without comment or gloss, related what had passed between her and Colonel Vaughan. She told all, as nearly as she could remember, in his own words, merely omitting what he said about Miss Gwynne.
As she spoke, she felt like a culprit before a judge, who, though conscious of his innocence, has not courage to meet the glance of him on whom his fate depends. But not on her own account had she that throbbing fear at her heart; she felt for her mistress alone.
That mistress stood erect, towering above the drooping girl, like a queen above a slave or suppliant. Red and pale by turns, with compressed lips and flashing eyes, she listened to the tale.
When it was finished, she, too, strove for words, but none came; so she laughed a short, sarcastic laugh, and moved back a few paces. At last,—
'Why do you tell me this ridiculous tale? Have you no better confidante for such absurd imaginations? You have dreamt it, Gladys. I do not believe you. Go!'
Gladys gave one penetrating, truthful look at her mistress, before which the defiant glance fell: but the rigid features alarmed her, and she would fain have remained, had not another. 'Go! I do not want you any longer!' sent her at once from the room.